Dough once pointed out that she and I add symbolic significance to everything. For instance, the postcards she uses to decorate her walls each stand for something in her mind. Maybe we think this way because, as English majors, we've spent a lot of time studying literature.
Blondie and I keep throwing the white pumpkins into the lake, and we give each pumpkin conceptual import as we throw it. We called the first one, the one I wrote about in the last post, “the marriage pumpkin.” On our second outing to the dock, we chucked the jealousy pumpkin. The third was the parental pumpkin, which my dad helped us throw.
We are not necessarily trying to discard these things from our life. I guess we are focusing on them for a few moments.
Beginning of the England Abroad, exploring Oxford by myself, August 2008
You were always brilliant in the morning /
Smoking your cigarettes, talking over coffee /
Your philosophies on art, Baroque moved you, /
You loved Mozart and you'd speak of your loved ones /
As I clumsily strummed my guitar /
You'd teach me of honest things /
Things that were daring, things that were clean /
Things that knew what an honest dollar did mean /
So I hid my soiled hands behind my back /